


The Honeyed Peach

by NuitNuit (Tasmen)



Series: Duty Doesn't Come For Free [5]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-30
Updated: 2010-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasmen/pseuds/NuitNuit





	1. Taking the Boy out of the Chantry

"_My dear Cullen, you can take the boy out of the Chantry, but shouldn't we try to take the Chantry out of the boy? Surely the Maker would not object to you experiencing one of the finer pleasures of his creation."_

Carnal pleasures had been something Cullen denied himself all his adult life. The path of the chaste and pure shone brightest. But with his downfall from grace, his becoming a Grey Warden, he began to feel disillusioned with a life of blind worship and following. The Templars, the Chantry, both had cast him aside, completing ignoring his many years of devout service. His faith had been rocked to its core. It was for this reason that he followed Zevran to the Honeyed Peach, a rather exclusive and private brothel hidden in the sumptuous buildings of Denerim's Palace district.

Rich and intoxicating, the smell wafting about the dusky air of the brothel's main salon overwhelmed with the scents of faraway places – Orlesian perfumes and Antivan incense just two of the aromas chosen to tease the nostrils. Cullen could not help but sneeze, the rich aroma of exotic promise overpowering his bashful nose. He had never stepped into such an establishment before and if it was not for the rather persistent and persuasive talents of Zevran, he probably never would have.

The woman greeting the pair carried with her the confidence of the nobility along with the raw sensuality one might expect of Madam. Gliding steps, a floating advance, carried her towards both men. A simper of a pout adorned ruddy hued lips as she encircled one of Zevran's arms with her own. "It had been too long, Zevran. " Eyelashes batted, fingers stroked the lower body of Zevran's arm in teasing caress, an arsenal of coquettish tools was put on full display. "We had thought you left us. I wept for days."

Gallant and with just the right sprinkling of flair, Zevran swept her pale and delicate hand to his mouth, allowing his lips to linger a hair past appropriate. The rascal's smile appeared. "How could I forget such a flower as you, my sweet Sophia? Surely, I could not. You will always hold a special place in my…" Deliberate, he paused to lay a kiss along the swell of her breasts, "…heart."

Cullen stood there watching the exchange, his discomfiture growing with each passing minute. A nervous sway had taken hold as he swished and swashed back and forth. His resolve had begun to erode. "Zevran, I think…"

"That you will change your mind?" The Antivan's attentions shifted from the deliciously divine diva to his left to the blundering bashful boy at his right. "No no, that is not allowed. We have come on a mission and I fully intended to see it completed." The subject was not up for debate. "You see, my dear friend here, has, shall we say, not yet sailed the Quaking Seas," he explained, bestowing a luxuriously lazy gaze upon the velvet draped temptress. "I was hoping you might be able to provide a rather talented and skilled navigator for his virgin voyage."

Red lips spun in licentious smile, delight dancing within heavily made up eyes. "Oh my dear, Zev, we most certainly can aid your friend in his journey. But I must know, does he prefer a more full bodied vintage or something, perhaps, a bit more…" Her voice dropped an octave, oozing conspiratorial, "…delicate and refined?" Her heated gaze took in Cullen, raking slowly from tip to top.

All the innuendo about his inexperience and Sophia's rather debauched and open inspection brought a blush -- bright, red and hot -- to Cullen's face. Was this what it felt like to be trapped in a black widow's web? And could they stop talking about him as if he was not in the room? Further discomfort brought the nervous motion of his hand, shifting the hang of his pants as if loosening the fabric at the front might make any examination more difficult.

"My friend has a weakness for dark haired beauties with eyes of chocolate brown." Nothing but trouble could come from the smile that slid serpentine across Zevran's mouth and Cullen knew it. It wasn't hard to see what might come next. "If she could perhaps wear a mage's robe, my friend would be beside himself with joy." Nothing but trouble.

He felt a rush of involuntary excitement trip fantastic at the mention of the robes. Deep furrows marred Cullen's brow, a general look of displeasure invading his expression. He had been too transparent. And while he knew that particular cat had been out of the bag for some time, it didn't help soften the rush of embarrassment at hearing someone verbalize: _He totally wants to do a mage, you see. Big time!_ This was beginning to seem like more and more of a bad idea.

Light, Sophia patted the top of Zevran's before unfurling herself from his rather welcomed embrace. "I will be back in a moment. I have the perfect…" Lips pressed together, ripe with mischief. "...navigator for the Captain." A chuckle bubbled from her mouth as she disappeared behind the silken mass of a heavily embroidered curtain, leaving the two men alone.

The Captain? Cullen couldn't help but arch his brow at the nickname. "Zevran, I'm not so sure this is a good idea anymore. I had thought…" The Reddening, sequel to Cullen's prior blush, soon began to play across his features. His eyes glanced sideways as his foot shuffled restless against the ground. But a whisper, he continued, "…it would be special." It wasn't that he expected rainbows and prancing unicorns to be present. But he did have ideas of love being a necessary attendee at this kind of 'Joining'. He just wanted to roll himself up into a little ball and go hide in a corner.

Raucous laughter erupted from Zevran. "Oh, I assure you, it shall be very special. That is something of which you should not worry, my friend. Sophia specializes in the special."

As if on cue, the curtains parted, Sophia returning. Trailing behind her was a tantalizing morsel swathed in robes of green and gold. To say the robe was form fitting was an understatement. The curve of her hips, the slender width of her waist and the rise of her breasts all found compliment in the intimate hug of leather and silk. Just bordering on obscene, a side slit on the robe traveled up the green stocking covered path of a slender leg, hinting at the hidden treasures beneath. It was definitely a brothel's version of a 'sexy witch' costume. Dark hair was drawn at the nape of the woman's neck, woven into a single braid that extended down the middle of her back. Dewy skin only helped to further compliment her already delicate facial features.

_Gulp_.


	2. Taking the Chantry out of the Boy

A person hears the word 'boudoir' and an immediate image comes to mind of a room lit with only the dim flicker of candle light, lush fabrics covering every surface, pillows liberally placed in a rather deliberate manner about the room, and a bed seething with the possibilities of many a sexual delight.

What Cullen stepped in was nothing of sort. In fact, he wasn't quite sure what to call it. The small room had been decorated in theme.

_I hate Zevran._

The entire room had been designed to look like the Captain's quarters on a ship or at least what Cullen imagined such compartments might look like. Rich mahogany planks covered the walls. A small desk sat in one corner of the room; a parchment map spread open atop, pinned down with the aid of a sextant and compass. The focal point, however, was the bed, a massive oak frame topped with an overly plush mattress. Festoons of red hung in graceful swoop from the ceiling, flanking both sides at the head of the bed. It was like nothing Cullen had ever seen before.

He hesitated just inside the room, nerves chipping away at his courage. He had no idea what to do next. Did he go sit on the bed? Did he take off his clothes? Did he just stand there and look silly? One of those things he knew he could excel at. The others filled him with both dread and excitement.

"I..I don't know your name." It seemed a good place to start. Even if he couldn't look at her, which he quite obviously was trying desperately not to do, he should know her name.

The gentle prod of a finger drug electric along Cullen's stubble covered chin, pushing it up. She would have him see her. "You may call me whatever you like."

One name echoed in his head. But would he dare speak it? "How about Eli...za?" No.

Investigatory hands began their search of Cullen, his shirt the first victim of their rather thorough inspection. "If that is what you would like, then Eliza it is." Before he could feign protest, linen was swept quickly over his head, his shirt removed.

Lips probe the outline of a now exposed nipple along the of Cullen's chest. "Would you like me to undress or would you like the robes to stay on?"

It's almost too much to bear. Lips. The Maker. His chest. He could not think in full sentences. Only flashes of statements entered his mind.

_On. _"Off." The words came before he could really protest. What the mind wanted and what the mouth wanted seemed to be two different things at this point. His upbringing had told him: do not touch the loose woman for her values may taint your own. Yet, his hands could not help but find the roll of 'Eilza's' breasts, even under the coverage of cloth, and fully inspect their altitude. He had the feel of a woman's breast described to him before but nothing quite matched up to the real thing. Balls of cotton? No. Bags of sand? No. Sweet Maker, I want to bury my head in the billowy confection? Yes.

He could only imagine what they may feel like freed of their cloth barrier.

_I hate Zevran._

His desire was her command. The sheath of a garment was shrugged off quickly and tossed to…well Cullen had no idea where. Bare breasts came into vision and really, everything else became a distant memory. Only the image of rounded flesh, ivory in pallor, and the small rounded shape of nipples filled his mind. Women used these to suckle infants, he tried to tell himself. But all he could see was: _ BOOBIES!_

_I hate Zevran._

Eliza's hands pushed down into Cullen's chest, nudging him to lay supine upon the bed. The navigator was on deck and ready to do her job. He lay against the lushness of the pillow top, apprehension still ripe within his movement. The never ending battle between psyche and logic continued to rage in his mind. He knew what he _should _do and he knew what he _wanted _to do. The pair was diametrically opposed.

"Let's see what the Captain has below deck." His pants were tugged aside, pushed along the length of his thighs. What little resistance he had felt up until that point soon melted away at the heated touch of well trained fingers. Templars train a person about discipline, faith and standing strong at times of trial. None of his training had prepared him for such a feeling. He found himself completely and utterly vulnerable under the pull of the woman now straddling him. Vixen, whore, witch, it didn't matter what the conventional man might call her. He knew he would call her goddess….at least for now.

The feeling of her flesh against his burned so sweet. His body quaked and shuddered under every tickle of her fingers and flick of her tongue. His stomach tightened; his body tingled. Everything stood on edge. This was the sin the sisters had spoken so outwardly against? How could something so wonderfully good be so …wrong? He didn't take a moment's pause to consider it. Lost in the moment, lost in the folds of silken flesh and wanton desire, Cullen lived in the moment for the first time in his life.

_I hate Zevran._

Every nook, every cranny, all became fodder for a hungered and eager expedition. Arm pits? Check. Sway of the waist? Check. Innie? Double check. Everything was new, exciting and begging to be touched. He was a man…lost in the moment. Later he might flagellate himself for his sins. But now? The only whipping he engaged in was the soft slick of his tongue against the smooth flesh of his new best friend.

Everything became a blur to Cullen until..until the unicorns exploded in his mind. Sweet, sweet unicorns, rainbows and kittens. Yes, there were kittens. The warmth of another body sheathed about his, the rhythmic pulse of her bobbing up and down, he absolutely went explody…in seconds. As quickly as it started, it ended in the spasms of his bucking body. Light shot bright, his stomach gone taut, a moan growled loud. And it was done.

Cullen lay there on the bed, his stomach heaving in rapid breath. It almost seemed sinful how short it all was. It was a tease to what promised to be a long running show with encores. This was what Zevran went on and on about? A few seconds of the best pleasure EVER?

_I hate…_

Three women in various states of undress clung to Zevran as he sat perched atop an oversized chair upholstered in blue damask. His slender fingers toyed with a lustrous strand of red hair dangling loose along the bared shoulder blade of his lap mate – a beautiful creature with the face of a doll. In any other surrounding, she might easily be mistaken for a woman fully within the blush of innocence. But as she sat there atop Zevran's lap, any such blush could not be found.

As Cullen walked slowly into the room, Zevran's mouth slid into smile. "I see you have returned from your voyage."

Was it that obvious? Had Cullen changed somehow? Would everyone know that he had done _it? _There was awkward and then there was awwwwwkwaaaaard and he really did not want to talk about what he just did. Of course, he also knew there was no way Zevran would allow such a thing. 'Personal boundaries' was not a phrase in Zevran's lexicon. "Um..yes." And try as he might, Cullen could not restrain himself from smiling. He tried to hide his happy guise with the turn of the head and an intense focus upon a particularly interesting piece of furniture.

Laughter filled the air. He unwound himself from the tangle of his female companions and sauntered to Cullen. "Let us go and see what other mischief may find us this evening."

Zevran said jump. Cullen asked how high. And while a good portion of him still found Zevran repellent, his approval bar for Zevran managed to tick up just a little in the positive. "I hate you by the way, Zevran," he said as they approached the brothel's front door.

"I would not have it any other way," Zevran shot back, not skipping a beat. "Now, you may call me Zev." And as if to punctuate the point that Zevran now considered the men to be friends, he helped himself to a little bit of Cullen's backside in a greedy grab.

A yelp of surprise burst upon Cullen's lips as he jumped forward at the unexpected grope. His mouth twisted in frown. "Ok, now I really hate you."

Entirely too self satisfied, the Cheshire cat grinned. "Of course. It is the ex-Templar way."


End file.
